Gemotions

The letter, postmarked from a town far away, had arrived with the daily mail. Michael recognized the handwriting instantly. It was a font that mocked him, calling him back to the past. He set the letter down on the countertop, the stark white a painful reminder of what had happened.

He eventually picked it up, his face a mask of indifference. He read the words, and his skin began to prickle. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his eyes. He crumpled the letter without a word, and then, without further thought, he went to his shed.

He returned, a few minutes later, with a can of gasoline.